


Gratitude

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [34]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 23:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Did your mom just like, the opposite of cock block us?” Jared asks. “Cock enable?”“Jared,” Bryce says, sounding totally aghast, and Jared bites his lip hard to keep himself from laughing.





	Gratitude

It’s kind of weird to knock on Bryce’s door after months of just letting himself in. He knocked a few times after he got his key, when he knew Bryce was home, but Bryce looked so confused every time he opened the door for him that Jared stopped pretty quickly. Still, it seems like the polite thing to do when Elaine’s there, and he doesn’t know what she’d think about Jared having a key before they’ve even been dating six months. Even more unsure what she’d think about the fact Jared’s had it since like, the three month point. Jared would think it was really early if someone else was doing that, though like, inside of the relationship it felt right.

If he’s a little leery of Elaine knowing, Bryce clearly isn’t, because he answers the door with the same confused look as always, and, right in front of his mom, says, “Did you forget your key?”

“I just wanted to be polite,” Jared says, which doesn’t make Bryce look any less confused. “Nice to see you, Elaine.”

“Jared!” Elaine says, sounding so excited to see him it’s kind of flattering, then nudges Bryce aside to pull him into a giant hug. For a tiny lady, she hugs pretty fight.

“You look so nice!” Elaine says when she pulls back. “Is that a new sweater?”

Jared has…no idea how she knows that, considering she’s met him all of once, but he is, in fact, wearing the sweater his grandma got him for Christmas.

“Yeah,” he says, then, stumbling a little, “You look nice too?”

“You’re so sweet,” she says. “Hungry?”

Jared figured they’d eat at Bryce’s, but apparently one use of Bryce’s kitchen for actual cooking purposes is the annual limit. A bunch of hotels nearby are offering brunch, unsurprisingly, since like, their guests gotta eat, and they end up at a buffet, which, pro, means Jared doesn’t have to look at all the prices on the menu and wince and find the cheapest option, but con, isn’t cheap — this definitely isn’t the kind of hotel the Hitmen stay at, though it’s probably the kind the Flames do — and also like, buffet breakfast gets really, really old when you spend as much time on the road as Jared does. Still. Bacon. Lots of bacon. Jared’s on vacation until tomorrow, and his body is ready.

Elaine orders a mimosa, and looks surprised when Bryce orders orange juice, minus the champagne, the two of them doing this thing where Bryce tilts his head at Jared and Elaine nods. Jared feels kind of awkward about it, but like — yeah, kind of underage, plus the whole ‘not allowed to be around Bryce when he’s drinking’ thing equals a mimosa free morning, Jared guesses, though Bryce isn’t driving, and he doubts his parents would care about like, half a glass of champagne.

Jared, who used to eat himself into a food coma at buffets when he was a kid, keeps mostly to his diet — minus the bacon — and Bryce does too, down to an egg white omelette, which Jared usually can’t do, just because they’re depressing. Yolk is where the tasty part of eggs lives. Anything else, why even bother. 

Jared’s pretty sure he catches envious looks from Bryce at his mom’s plate, or maybe he’s just projecting, because he definitely is. Besides some bacon of her own, she’s basically sampled the entire pastry section. Sometimes there are drawbacks to a career in hockey, and not being able to sample the entire pastry section? Kind of one of them. Jared doesn’t even have that much of a sweet tooth, but that cinnamon roll is talking to him all the way across the table.

Elaine does most of the talking, about Bryce’s grandparents, aunt, his dad’s sister — Jared knows all this because she always gives Jared, the context, all “Your nan — that’s my mom, Bryce’s father’s mom passed two years ago —”, making sure Jared isn’t lost, which he appreciates. Peppers Jared with questions about how his Christmas plans were, and brunch takes over an hour and a half, which isn’t surprising once Jared thinks about it, since there isn’t much time left to eat for him or Elaine. Bryce takes his extra time to get seconds, nudging the cinnamon roll on his plate towards Jared until Jared guiltily takes it.

“I’m going to do some Boxing Day shopping,” Elaine announces when they get outside. “Be home in a few hours. Jared, will you be there when I get back?”

“Probably,” Jared says, but she gives him a hug goodbye anyway, kisses Bryce’s cheek, which involves a lot of bending down on Bryce’s behalf, considering the height difference.

“Did your mom just like, the opposite of cock block us?” Jared asks when they get back to Bryce’s. He’s been wondering the whole short walk, but it seems like a dumb thing to say publicly. “Cock enable?”

“Jared,” Bryce says, sounding totally aghast, and Jared bites his lip hard to keep himself from laughing.

“She said a few hours,” Jared says. “Like, pointedly.”

“She did not!” Bryce says. “She knows we have to exchange presents and stuff.”

“You really couldn’t have set me up better if you tried, huh,” Jared says. “Wanna exchange presents?”

“Christmas presents, I mean,” Bryce says.

“That’s…still dirty, Bryce,” Jared says. “C’mon, we haven’t had sex in, like, a week.” 

The last time they’ve gone that long Bryce was, like, across the country, and at least there was a couple Skype sessions in there. This time it’s totally Jared’s fault — well, Jared’s _school’s_ fault — but obviously that needs to be rectified, especially since Bryce is flying out again today.

Bryce looks actively conflicted, like somehow Christmas presents are more important than sex.

“I want to suck your dick,” Jared complains, which thankfully, _thankfully_ , returns Bryce to reason.

Jared is disheveled and considerably more relaxed — not that he wasn’t relaxed before, but, you know…orgasms — when Bryce drags him back to the living room, apparently still very intent on literal gift exchange. The tree in the corner has a ton of gifts under it, and Jared suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I thought you already exchanged presents with your mom,” Jared says. She showed off a bracelet Bryce got her, pretty and very, very sparkly. Jared is pretty sure every single sparkle added like, ten bucks, and there were _so many_ of them.

“Yeah, yesterday,” Bryce says.

“Who are all these presents for,” Jared says, with growing horror, then when Bryce blinks at him, “Bryce no. There’s like, a dozen there.”

Bryce shrugs.

“I only have a couple for you,” Jared says. 

“It’s not, like, a contest,” Bryce says. “I just picked up whatever. Like, whenever I saw something and thought of you, I picked it up.”

“So apparently you think about me a lot,” Jared says.

“I mean,” Bryce says. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Jared smiles down at his hands. “Okay,” he says. “Do mine first.” He really doesn’t want to start getting a present inferiority complex as he opens shit.

“I didn’t really—” Jared starts when Bryce starts opening the box Jared brought, careful, like it matters if he rips the paper, but Bryce knows he doesn’t have a lot of money, so it’ll just sound defensive.

“Awesome, new lucky tie,” Bryce says, then, “Shit, now I gotta eat those!” at the Whoppers in a tone halfway between complete delight and utter agony, which Jared thinks means he did good. Even better when Bryce buttons his dress shirt to the collar, fingers working not only enviably blind — Jared doesn’t have a hope in hell of tying a tie without a mirror — but fast. Jared was right: the tie brings out his eyes.

“Looks good?” Bryce asks.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Really good.”

Bryce goes into the hall and like — preens at himself a little, which is ridiculous, but makes Jared feel even better about it, and his present concerns are alleviated for all of a minute before Bryce starts pushing presents at him. 

There’s a giant box of Glossettes, Jared’s default movie snack, because apparently him and Bryce are equally lame. Jared grins down at them. The biography of the Flames captain who retired a few years back, which Jared’s actually been meaning to read. An agenda for 2016 which is nicer than Jared would buy himself, but not like, obnoxiously or anything. It’s kind of a relief. If they’re all stuff like that, Jared doesn’t have to feel too guilty.

Of course, the next thing he opens is a fucking _suit jacket_. Followed by the pants, a dress shirt, and a tie, because they’re _really_ equally lame.

“For your draft,” Bryce says. “Like, I know it’s not for awhile, but I figured you should have something nice for it, so.”

“You dissing the suits I have?” Jared asks.

“No!” Bryce says. “Just, like. Look good, feel good, y’know?”

“Do I want to know what this cost?” Jared says.

“I can afford it,” Bryce says, which probably means ‘no, no you don’t.’ 

“Bryce,” Jared says.

“You might need to get it tailored a bit,” Bryce says, completely ignoring Jared’s tone of protest. “Like, off the rack isn’t perfect, but it looks like it’s pretty much your size. Plus I went a little bit bigger because you’re probably going to put on some muscle before the draft, so maybe, like — wait until the combine, see if it fits better?”

“Bryce, I can’t take all this,” Jared says. “It’s way too much. You’ve got to like, return the suit or something.”

“I lost the receipts,” Bryce says. “And none of it would fit me anyway. Like, except for the tie, obviously, but I think it’d look better on you. I can’t really do stripes.”

“Lost, or threw out?” Jared asks.

“I can afford it,” Bryce repeats. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“It kind of is,” Jared says.

“Here,” Bryce says, offering him another wrapped box.

“Nope,” Jared says. “Not taking any more presents.”

“Last one,” Bryce says. “I promise.”

The box is tiny, and Jared wonders if it’s cufflinks for the suit or something, a tie pin, some tiny little thing Jared’s going to lose in ten seconds that cost as much as the Hitmen give him annually.

“I noticed you don’t wear a chain or anything, and it’s like — basically required if you’re gonna be an NHLer,” Bryce says. “Which you obviously are.”

The chain’s nice, gold thick enough it won’t snap easy, not thick enough to make Jared look like a douchey mobster, and Jared doesn’t really wear jewelry, like, at all, but it’s not gaudy or anything, and he’d be okay wearing it. Except he changes his mind the second he sees the three letters hanging from it, JBM, like those necklaces he’s seen girls wear, Ashley or Emily or whatever in cursive, so you never have to worry about forgetting their name.

“Bryce, I can’t wear a necklace with my own initials,” Jared says. “This is like the jewelry equivalent of getting a tattoo of your own name. People are going to wonder if I regularly forget it or something. ”

Bryce frowns. 

“You know I’m not dissing your tattoo, c’mon,” Jared says.

“The chain is okay, though?” Bryce asks. “Or like…not?”

“Yeah, the chain is — I like it,” Jared says.

“I can just return the pendant part then,” Bryce mumbles.

“I thought you didn’t keep any receipts?” Jared asks.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d like it, so,” Bryce says, and fuck, Jared’s hurt his feelings. Great fucking job, Matheson.

“I do like it,” Jared says, which is probably what he should have said instead of like…literally everything else he said. 

“You don’t have to pretend to,” Bryce says. “It’s okay.”

“I—” Jared says. “I always say the dumbest shit. Please don’t return it?”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Bryce says, unthreading the necklace from the pendant, not quite looking at Jared. 

“Bryce,” Jared says.

“Here,” Bryce says, handing him the chain by itself. “Your like, mandatory NHL necklace.”

“Thanks,” Jared says. “Um. Help me put it on?”

“Sure,” Bryce says, fastening the clasp when Jared bends down, then pressing a kiss to the back of Jared’s neck. “You’re good.”

“Sorry,” Jared says, which is easier to say with Bryce behind him. “I’m a total ingrate.”

“No, it’s okay,” Bryce says. “I know you’re like—”

“A dick?” Jared asks.

“Our styles are different, or whatever,” Bryce says. “It’s okay.”

“It was really thoughtful?” Jared says, turning just in time to see a slightly strained smile. 

Jared doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not that Elaine comes sweeping in then with a whole bunch of bags, basically ending any chance of talking about it. She immediately starts chattering about all the deals she got as soon as she’s out of her coat.

“Oh, Jared, I picked something up for you,” Elaine says, because apparently Bryce came by that aspect of himself honestly, and when Jared protests, “It’s just a little thing!”

‘A little thing’ is a scarf that looks expensive, though he can’t tell, because she pulls the price tag off before she gives it to him, which Jared guesses is another way of losing the receipt. It’s so soft his fingers seem to sink into it, a blue so dark it’s almost black.

“They say never to mix black and navy, but I think it’ll go well with your coat,” she says. 

“Thank you,” Jared says, and realises he basically never said that properly to Bryce, because he is a complete and total fuck up.

He amends that when he heads out, Elaine hugging him goodbye before announcing she’s going to go grab a drink — another unsubtle excuse, though it’s less cock enabling and more hug enabling, and also like, the exact opposite of his dad glaring out the window at them.

He’s burdened a little by gifts — Bryce gave him a suit bag so he wouldn’t crush it on the way home, and Jared’s still trying to figure out how to get all this past his parents because he knows they’re not going to approve, might even demand he returns it. The hug’s kind of awkward, Jared hopes more because he’s got all this stuff, and Elaine’s like, right there, and not because he’s fucked up. Well, he knows he has, he just — doesn’t want there to be consequences? Nice, Jared.

“Thanks,” Jared says. “For, you know, all this. It was, you know. Nice of you.”

Bryce literally shrugs it off. For someone who’s like, kind of got a reputation for being arrogant, he kind of minimises what he does do a lot, at least off the ice.

“I’m really sorry I was a dick about it,” Jared says, which is still hard, then, easier, “I love you.”

“You too,” Bryce says, and Jared tells himself sternly the entire drive home that overanalysing the fact that Bryce kissed him on the cheek instead of the mouth was because Jared was barely reachable through all his presents and not because Bryce has now decided Jared’s an ungrateful asshole it’s not worth being with, and 100% fails not to overanalyse endlessly until Bryce texts him a few hours later with another adorable selfie of him and his mom, and a ‘mom says hi again!’, at which point he lets himself breathe again.


End file.
